Detachment-Delta, retired. This is Jessica Kegan, Colonel James Kegan’s daughter. We have an appointment with Dr. Matthew Dillon.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll let him know you’re here.” The woman, a slender blonde in a perfectly tailored dark blue uniform jacket and skirt, headed down the hall. A few minutes later she returned. “Dr. Dillon will see you now.”
Jessie followed the woman, Bran walking behind her, into an office with a window looking out on low rolling hills. The doctor rose from behind his desk to greet them. Dillon was a slim, fine-boned man, early fifties, with sandy brown hair.
“Captain,” the doctor said to Bran.
“Retired,” Bran reminded him. “It’s just Brandon now.” The men shook hands, and the doctor turned to Jessie.
“Ms. Kegan, it’s nice to put a face with the voice on the phone. I’m sorry the circumstances aren’t better. Let me start by saying I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you.”
“Have a seat,” the doctor said, gesturing to the visitor chairs opposite his desk.
For the next few minutes, they discussed the autopsy that had been performed on her father, which led to her theory that he had been murdered.
“You read the report, Ms. Kegan,” Dr. Dillon said. “Your father complained of nausea and stomach pains and was taken to the infirmary. Less than an hour later, he suffered a massive heart attack and died. There was no sign of anything other than acute myocardial infarction. I’m sorry. I realize, under the circumstances, this has been a very troubling time for you, but you need to deal with the facts.”
“Did the autopsy show what caused the stomach pain?” Bran asked.
“The nausea started after lunch. It was assumed to be a digestive problem or an intestinal virus, but it turned out to be a symptom of his impending heart attack. Unfortunately, by the time he was discovered in his room, it was too late to revive him.”
A sound of pain slipped from her throat as Jessie imagined her father dying alone. She steeled herself. She had known this wouldn’t be easy.
“Is it possible that at some point my father could have been given some kind of drug that could have triggered the attack?”
The doctor frowned. “As I said, the colonel was found unresponsive in his hospital bed. The physician on duty reported cause of death as congestive heart failure. The autopsy supports that diagnosis. There was nothing on his tox screen that would indicate his death was anything other than natural causes.”
“But the tox screens you ran were limited, were they not?” Bran pressed. “That would be typical.”
The doctor’s irritation grew. “Unfortunately, there is no way we can test for every drug on the face of the earth.”
Bran wisely let the subject drop. They needed this man’s cooperation. No use making him angry unless there was a reason.
“What about security cameras?” Jessie asked.
“There are cameras in the hall outside the cells. Unfortunately, the day he died, the camera inside the cell was temporarily out of service.”
Jessie flashed a look at Bran. See? I told you this was all too convenient.
“Do you have a list of the visitors who came to see Colonel Kegan while he was incarcerated?” Bran asked.
“I’m sure Major Anson, his military counsel, was provided with a list of all visitors. The major would also have had access to any security camera video.” The doctor rose from his chair. “If there isn’t anything further...”
Bran rose and so did Jessie. “There is one more thing,” she said. “I’d like to request my father’s body be exhumed. What procedures do I need to follow to make that happen?”
The doctor’s sandy brown eyebrows drew together. Clearly he wasn’t happy with the direction the conversation was taking, an implication he might have missed something when he’d done his job.
“You would need grounds for such an action before disinterment could be approved,” the doctor said. “I’m afraid at this time, there’s nothing I can do to help you in that regard.”
Jessie straightened. “If we need grounds, we’ll find them. Thank you for your time, Dr. Dillon.”
The doctor remained standing as they walked out the door.
“I was hoping we’d get something a little more concrete,” Bran said darkly as they made their way to the parking lot.
“Maybe we did. The question you asked about the nausea my father experienced? The way the report read, I didn’t really give it that much thought. But what if someone put something in his food that would make him sick enough to get him transported to the hospital? If they planned to